


Eight Limbs But Not Slimy

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Daryl Dixon is not a cuddler, Daryl has issues with his feelings, Daryl is oblivious, Fluff and Angst, Glenn has greedy hands, Glenn is devious, Kink Meme, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To be honest he wasn't exactly sure how to handle this. He wasn't the stick around and cuddle type. He mostly worked off the strategy of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. Because honestly, he just wasn't the type of man that good ol-fashioned southern girls took home to meet their folks."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Limbs But Not Slimy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: This was my fill response to an unbelievably cute prompt posted on LJ at the TWD Kink Meme: "Daryl/Glenn: I want to see Daryl slowly falling in love with Glenn without realizing it because he's never been in love before. Lots of fluffy moments and confused!Daryl would be awesome" *Rated for: adult language, adult situations, light slash, and adorableness.

To be honest he wasn't exactly sure how to handle this. He wasn't the stick around and cuddle type. He mostly worked off the strategy of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. Because honestly, he just wasn't the type of man that good ol-fashioned southern girls took home to meet their folks.

He'd never really been interested in scoopin' himself up some pretty little ball and chain anyway. It just wasn't who he was…

He'd preferred his life the way it had been before thank you very fuckin' much. Solo… Back where there had been no one save for Merle that had been skulking around his place. Whether it was slumming on the couch after a particularly nasty bender, or looking for spare shit to pawn in order to keep his stomach full of rot-gut and his dealer in business.

Back when he'd had no other responsibilities than to himself and his kin, and certainly nothin' to tie him down. Back when he could head off down the road and pick up some sweet little number from some run-down, back country bar and take her heels to Jesus whenever he fancied himself a good lay. Content to find pleasure in someone who wasn't looking for forever, just the same as him.

...Funny how a lot of shit goes and changes on you when the whole fucking world comes to an end…

Sure, being attracted to the kid had been a bit of a shocker in the beginning. Though not in the way the others might have thought if they ever managed to get their heads out of their asses and decided to see the world as it really was. He might be a blue blooded, over the crossroads redneck, but that didn't mean he was some close minded homophobe running around with his ass cheeks clenched together either.

Hell Nah… With him gender had never really been the issue. It was really just people in general. Even before the world had gone and ended on them he'd found that it was remarkably hard to find someone that was actually worth a damn.

But all the same, even he'd raised a brow when his brain and libido had finally decided to agree on something. Because the truth was that he'd never really been into the smooth limbed, gangly type. All peach fuzzed softness and arching ivory skin.

But regardless, something about the kid had caught his eye. And well, the rest, as they say, is history.

No, what had really thrown him off was how fast he'd taken to the kid. It made him feel strange. Off-kilter and unbalanced in a way he didn't quite know how to define. Mostly because he could almost guarantee that if this had been a half a year earlier, he would have probably been just as likely to send the kid flying in his rush to high tail it home after only a few hours in the sack.

…Somewhat unsurprisingly, he didn't do the 'morning after' very well either.

Perhaps he'd just gone soft. Gone and bent somewhere along the line rather then stood firm… At least as far as the kid was concerned anyway. A man could go crazy thinking about shit like this. All he knew was that something had changed and honestly, he didn't have a clue what to make of it.

Either way it still begged the question, why the hell was he putting up with this crap?!

It was a question that had him twisted on the inside. Because the thing was that whenever he asked himself that same god damned question, all he got was fucking crickets.

Well, shit.

Because the truth was that the kid was a mess of greedy limbs and flailing flesh. Hell, he'd lost count of how many times he'd woken up to the warm slide of a half hard prick and more than a few wayward elbows that had gotten tangled between his limbs sometime during the night. The kid apparently had absolutely no concept of personal space. - Either that or he just didn't care…

Hell, it was like bedding a god damn octopus for Christ sakes!

The whole situation made him feel like he was stuck in the middle of one of those smarmy camera commercials from the nineties. A freakin' Kodak moment or whatever… Because seriously? Fuck cuddling.

The first time it'd happened he'd actually done a whole lot of nothing, struck dumb by the concept itself for a few long and very confusing moments before the discomfort had set in. Swallowing an inexplicable lump in the back of his throat when he'd looked down to find the kid looking all blissful and shit. Snuggling into the curve of his chest like it was his own personal pillow.

He'd managed to untangle himself after the kid had dropped off, but the damage had already been done. And he'd ended up spending half the night sitting on the other side of the tent oiling his crossbow, because his brain and his dick wouldn't shut up for long enough for him to figure out what do about it.

Christ. Give the kid a few inches of bare skin and suddenly he was oozing around takin' liberties...

Either way, the point was that he wasn't going to stand for it. Nope. Not one fuckin' bit. The kid was a ridiculous mess of sharp angles and colt-like limbs. More than that, he was a freakin' furnace. He was hot, clingy, uncomfortable, and he snored like a fucking freight train. The Chinaman was a certified, unrepentant cuddler and worse? The kid had apparently just assumed that he was one as well!

But he, Daryl E. Dixon, did not cuddle, snuggle, or do anything else even remotely similar. The only problem was that the kid hadn't seemed to have gotten the god damned memo.

…Just… …Fuck everything.

When he'd started bedding the kid, he'd decided there were going to be some ground rules. He remembered that much at least. But the kid had gone and shot that all to shit in less then four seconds flat. Humming into the crux of his shoulder and drawing lazy patterns over sore muscles and overheated skin until he'd entirely forgotten what he'd been meaning to say in the first place. Finding himself uncommonly distracted by the biting press of those blunt, half moon tips and the sensation of smooth, unmarred skin that had slid across his like silk.

The third time it'd happened he wasn't sure if he hated it, or if he was just getting used to it. But in his defense, he figured he had a 'get out of jail free card' on the whole thing; especially considering the fact that he'd been far too distracted to mind as the kid had rubbed across the length of him like a tom-cat in heat. Keeping him off balance and uncertain as the kid had mouthed dirty kisses across the span of his thighs, all puffing breaths and surprisingly sharp teeth as he'd worked him over.

It was dirty pool and the kid fuckin' knew it.

Because in truth, he'd been too busy trying to bring the world back into focus when the kid had slicked himself up and sunk down on his cock like a pro. Mounting him like he'd been born to do just that, as he'd slid down the length of him without even so much as a god damn warning. - Lips caught between his teeth, sweat dripping down from his temples, obscene sounds echoing from his vulnerable throat. …The whole fucking nine yards.

It'd almost been too much. Hell… as it was he'd fisted his hands in the kid's hips and snarled. Fighting the urge to surge up and take control when the kid began to roll his hips. Drawing out the moment until Glenn suddenly clenched around him. Pupil's blown wide as the Korean grinned and watched him buck up in pleasure, completely lost to it as he'd mashed his fingers into the kid's thighs and forced him to move.

He'd come so hard he'd tasted the fucking ozone…

The fourth time it'd happened, Glenn had been rock hard and whimpering by the time they'd turned in for the night. And this time he'd ended up manhandling him into the tent without a second thought. Taking him down into rumpled nest of blankets until he'd promptly forgotten all about personal space and keeping his voice down as he'd pinned the kid flat and swallowed him whole.

But despite the lapse, the dirty looks they'd gotten from the others the next day had been more then worth it. Especially that pinched, bug-eyed expression from Lori that had made it look as though the woman was five seconds from blowing her own head off.

Christ, if only…

Still, he hadn't missed the fact that sometime during the night, maybe only a few hours after he'd finally coaxed his name from between the kid's slick, love bitten lips; he'd woken up to find Glenn all but hanging off him. Blinking through the haze of sleep to find one arm slung possessively across his ass, lax fingers trailing down the cleft like he had some sort of god damned invitation.

Peppy little shit.

The fifth time the jury was still out on who reached for whom first. Both of them too far gone to give the logistics of the matter much thought as they'd all but tumbled into the blankets. Limbs unaccountably greedy and shuddering with desperation as buttons and clasps went pinging off into the near darkness. - But since he figured he had veto power on the matter at hand, he'd decided to assume that it'd been the kid who had started it and that he'd been too much of a gentleman to tip him on his ass for tryin'.

The eighth time it happened, which was also, not so ironically the last time he decided to keep track, the kid had been punch drunk with exhaustion and one too many close calls. And to be honest, he hadn't really thought twice about towing him in, molding him into the curve of his side as he'd breathed in the kid's scent. - Letting it calm him, letting it remind him that they were both still here. …Alive.

It was something he just couldn't seem to get over, how in spite of unwashed clothes and days between washings the kid always managed to smell like this. Like freshly split evergreen, open pastures, and the bitter tang of an honest sweat. - But most of all, how the kid never failed to smell like his. Like his sheets and his skin.

Fuck.

It did strange things to his insides whenever the kid rubbed up against him in his sleep. Mashing his face into the jut of his shoulder or the arch of his neck until he'd managed to spread his hair into some far-flung, ticklish place he'd long forgotten. - Far too grateful to realize until the next morning, that this time, it had been him that had technically doing the cuddling.

Huh.

Perhaps cuddling wasn't so bad after all. And even if it was, he figured that at the end of the day, he could probably handle the kid as his little ol' ball and chain. After all, what was the worst the little man could do anyway? It wasn't like he was going to let the kid get under his skin or nothin'…

He shook his head, rubbing his face into the crook of the kid's neck as he inhaled the Asian's scent. Nosing the sensitive skin he found there until his teeth scraped across the vulnerable arch of the man's jugular. Worrying the hickey-strewn skin until the man murmured in his sleep, turning further into his chest as those cool little hands tightened around his waist.

"...Fuckin' parasite," he muttered, pointedly ignoring the fact that this time it was him pulling the younger man in as he traced lazy patterns into the man's skin, connecting the odd freckle to a smattering of spider-thin scars before he buried his calloused fingers into the Korean's hair.

To be honest, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help but want this, all of it. Everything the kid had to give and more. It didn't matter what he had to give up, what he might have to sacrifice or come to terms with in the end. He'd take on the whole fucking world if he had too. Ironically enough, the kid was worth it.

So, it was for those reasons that he did it. For those reasons that he buried his hands into that thatch of sable hair and ran his fingers across the kid's scalp until the younger man all but squirmed in his grip; responding to his touch even now as he let a tentative, but inquisitive hand trail down the length of him. Body humming at the closeness as he listened until the kid's heartbeat began to slur, and his own lids grew heavy.

All else considered, it was probably for the best that he didn't catch the sleepy smile the younger man smothered into his pillow as he let Daryl fit him into the curve of his chest. The motion sleep muted, but soul-baringly honest as the older man's arms curled snugly around his waist, pulling him flush against his rough, bed-warmed skin for the very first time…

Mission accomplished.

**Author's Note:**

> "All architecture is shelter, all great architecture is the design of space that contains, cuddles, exalts, or stimulates the persons in that space." - Philip Johnson.


End file.
